


lacuna

by prefacing



Series: requests [2]
Category: The Flash (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen, New 52, bonus wally mention, no one likes flashpoint, or new 52, reusing the plot device of flashpoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prefacing/pseuds/prefacing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has time for one thought—<i>what if this doesn't work and I've messed things up even more?</i>—before he launches himself forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lacuna

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terrigenesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrigenesis/gifts).



> a quick drabble for a friend of mine, who requested barry fixing the new 52. i cheated and used the plot device from flashpoint but it was a fun exercise all the same. i might rewrite this as an actual fic one day (with a way better plot).

“Love you, Iris.”

From next to the coffee machine Patty looks up, a frown deep on her face and skepticism clear in her voice. “Iris?”

“I meant Patty, love you _Patty_. Sorry, Singh's had me working around the clock on the Anderson case and I'm meeting Iris today to compare notes. Must've just slipped out.”

A reasonable explanation, making perfect sense, but as he bolts out the door after pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, he can't help but wonder why the name had sounded so natural on his lips, like he'd said it a million times before.

\---------

Hal's waiting when he gets there, lounging in a cushy recliner construct, and salutes lazily when Barry comes to an abrupt stop three feet away.

“Late _again_? I'm starting to feel like a stood-up girlfriend here.” 

“What do you mean, again? This is the first time I've been late, Hal.”

The smile falters. “You're always late, Barry. It's your thing. Just like radiating awesome are my thing and being a dickhead is Batman's.”

For someone known as the fastest man in the world, Barry's head moves awful slow as he shakes it back and forth. But he doesn't comment, takes it for the obvious mix-up it is (has to be, right?), and instead asks about where it is they're headed and why in the world he thinks he needs a neon green racecar to get there.

\---------

The Teen Titans are on television again, but Barry pays the news report only half a mind. Sure, Kid Flash's extravagance bothers him, but it's not like the two are related anyhow in anything more than code name. The kid can't even stand him, if their one and only meeting had been any indication.

Still, he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to have a sidekick, someone he can trust and lean on as a partner.

_Wally always was the best partner anyone could ask for._

And then he freezes, because who the hell is Wally?

\---------

They come in bits and pieces over the course of the next few weeks as the loose thread unravels and his carefully constructed reality falls apart. It's life as he remembers it, but different, altered. Except these aren't altered memories but real ones, the originals, painted over by an artist frustrated at an irreparable crack in the corner.

Him. The instigator of all this. The culprit. The guilty party.

And now that he knows, he can't let this be. He has to fix it, change things back to the way they were, assuming he even can.

But how?

\---------

For a guy who doesn't like 99% of the human population, Batman's oddly welcoming (if a near-silent grunt can qualify as 'welcoming') when Barry shows up at his door looking like the world's about to end.

“I need your help.”

Another non-committed grunt, followed by, “What happened?”

It all comes out then, the names, the memories, the people he thinks he remembers but don't exist. For a long while afterward, the only sound is the slow tick of the grandfather clock, marking the seconds as they pass, until— 

“Have you tried recreating it? That's what scientists do, isn't it?”

\---------

Up ahead: a blur of red edged with gold. His target. More specifically, him.

He runs, faster than he ever remembers running. There's fire spreading up his legs and into his lungs, but his only response is to push himself more, move just a little bit faster. The figure before him grows, inch by painful inch, until it's right there in front of him, close enough to be touched.

He has time for one thought— _what if this doesn't work and I've messed things up even more?_ —before he launches himself forward.

\---------

“Love you, Iris.”

From next to the coffee machine Iris looks up, a smile on her face and cup number four of coffee in her hands. "Love you too, Barry. Don't forget, you promised Wally you'd step in for Jay and take the kids out after classes. And for the love of god, whatever you do, don't—"

"—be late, I know, I know!"

He laughs as he presses a kiss to her cheek, her rebuke the most comforting thing he's heard all day.


End file.
